


Dancing with the Demons in our Minds

by Possumscan



Category: Cambridge Latin Course
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Telekinesis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8255893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Possumscan/pseuds/Possumscan
Summary: Barbillus has no control over his power, or his past.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I should probably get round to finishing stuff I've started rather than starting this... Oh well. Anyway, I'm calling this a prologue so I can use that as an excuse for it being short. Oh and I've put this as mature just as a precaution in case I *accidentally* make this darker than I planned.

Screams echo down the road.  
Quintus turns his head as he hears the sound. People are running, towards the noise. Quintus follows them.  
Nearing the scene, he sees a figure, clad in black. He is backing away from the incoming crowd. A car has been wrenched from the ground, as if the victim of a rather selective earthquake.  
But there has been no earthquake - and Quintus can see from the crowd that they fear this man. Quintus watches him reach out to a woman who clutches her daughter close to her body.  
This man is not strong enough to lift a car.  
Quintus realises something, God knows what, is wrong. Concerned, he backs away, breaking into a run.


	2. We Meet Again

Quintus leans against the counter, his fingers drumming slowly on the surface. Other than the song playing over the speakers, the shop is silent.  
It isn't a good song, Quintus notes. It's the sort that burrows through your skull and fastens its words around your brain.   
Melissa walks through the door. “Morning. You heard about that… thing?”  
Quintus rolls his eyes. “Oh yes. The thing. Absolutely.”  
“I mean the guy who threw a car across the street.”  
“Right. That thing.”  
Melissa frowns. “Well, I guess you're not in a talkative mood. I'll take the counter, now.”  
Glancing at the clock, Quintus notices it's half past eleven. “Oh. In that case, see you later.”  
Melissa feigns shock. “Was that a full sentence? Impressive.”  
Leaving for the break room, Quintus returns an incredulous look.  
He switches on the light, and it flickers dimly before illuminating the room.   
“Shit!” Quintus sees a figure sitting cross-legged on the table. “Sorry, customers aren't allowed back here -”  
The figure turns, revealing two terrified hazel eyes. Noticing the figure's heavy breathing, Quintus moved closer.  
“Can you get down from the table, please? Like I said -”  
“Help me.”  
The figure has a deep voice, which trembles from fear and exhaustion. He loosens his legs and slumps down. Suddenly, Quintus realises this is the black-clad figure from before. He has changed into an ill-fitting red shirt and trousers that expose his ankles.   
“What do you want me to do?” asks Quintus apprehensively.  
The man's face changes to surprise. “I need somewhere to hide. There are people I need to avoid, understand?” He sounds forceful, almost desperate.  
Before Quintus can open his mouth to reply, Melissa pushes the door open. Her face falls as she sees the man before her. “I'm… uh, never mind.”  
Quintus sighs. “Did you drive today?”  
“Yes. Why?”  
“Can I -”  
“No, you may certainly not.” cuts Melissa. “I don't want a part of whatever you're doing. This is _the guy,_ Quintus.”  
“My name is Barbillus.” The man turns to face Melissa, who widens her eyes and steps back.  
“Well,” Melissa tries to look calm. “That's great, but we -” She pulls Quintus to her side. “We have lots of customers to serve. Anyway, how did you get in here?”  
“I moved the wall.”  
“You moved the wall.”  
“That's right.” Barbillus smiles as if it is obvious.  
Quintus steps in. “Sorry, what?”  
Sheepishly, Barbillus breathes out. “I have… this thing. I can move things.”  
Melissa rolls her eyes again. “No way, same here! Now if we can get back to -”  
“With my mind,” adds Barbillus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure why I made Melissa so sarcastic.


	3. Moving Stationery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry the chapter title is such a shitty pun. Happy Chocolate Cupcake Day! (unless you're from the future)

“How about  _ this _ ?”

Three pencils. Melissa lines them up on the table, and retreats quickly. Closing his eyes and stretching out his fingers, Barbillus looks down at the pencils. They shoot across the room: one buried in the corkboard, one under the fridge, and another lodged in the coffee machine. Barbillus looks up eagerly like a dog anticipating a treat. “Can I try something bigger?”

Shaking his head, Quintus opens the door and walks through to the shop. “Not if we're cleaning it up afterwards. The first time was bad enough, and I'm really not sure I want to see Melissa fishing coffee granules out of her shorts again.”

Barbillus laughs.

“So, now we're sure…” Melissa begins, tugging paperclips from her cascading hair. “Anywhere in particular you'd like to isolate yourself from society? My place could be difficult, especially with Mrs Kelly around.”

“And she is..?” Quintus asks nervously, hoping this isn't a long explanation.

“You know, the old woman in the next flat across? Frequently comes round telling me to shower more quietly?”

“Nope, not ringing a bell.” Quintus interrupts.

“Oh. I've told you about her loads.”

Shifting uneasily, Quintus smiles. “I might have zoned out a bit at that time.”

Melissa glares at him. “Well, you'll have to sort it out. You're not taking my car, so -”

A set of keys drift through the air. Barbillus twirls them on his fingers, smirking. 

“Finish my shift for me, will you?” Quintus turns to walk out the door. 

“Fucking give that -” Melissa lunges forward to take the keys, but is pushed back by an invisible force as the two run to a silver car down the road.


	4. Moats and Boats and Waterfalls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know the high five was invented as a symbol of LGBT pride?

Buildings pass, shimmering glass and patchwork colours. Quintus drives, breathing slowly. Melissa seemed genuinely angry, something he's never seen before. 

Gradually, the low brick buildings transition to iron and towering complexes, casting shadows across the car.

“Here we are.” 

They pull into the side of a soaring, blue building. Barbillus glances up. “How high is it?”

“I'm on the fifteenth floor. There's sixteen.”

Nodding his head, Barbillus follows Quintus inside. Marble surrounds them, both floor and walls. Quintus tilts his head and they move towards the elevator. Once moving, Quintus slouches against the wall. The floors pass quickly, and soon the doors slide open, a detached voice calling out the number. Barbillus is led down the corridor to a door marked 29. Quintus rattles a key in the lock and thrusts it open.

“Welcome to my -”

“I need to take a shower.”

_ A thank you would have been nice, _ thinks Quintus. “Just through there, I think a spare towel's in the cabinet.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Staring out at the city, Quintus blinks. He traces the skyline on the glass. Of all the people in this place. 

The bathroom door unlocks. Barbillus wanders out.

“Everything alri- Oh.”

Still dripping with water, Barbillus has just a towel wrapped around his waist. He runs his hand through his tousled hair, as Quintus notes the smooth decline of Barbillus's torso. Thin black hairs run up the centre of his chest, splitting it neatly in two. 

“Could I borrow some clothes?”

“Mm. I mean, yeah.” Quintus glances up. “In there.” He motions to the right. 

Barbillus returns a few minutes later in a dark blue jacket and black jeans.

“A bit dark, don't you think?”

“That's the point. People don't notice, then.”

“I suppose. So, why do you need to hide anyway?”

A stack of books tumbles to the floor.

“Where I come from, people aren't very accepting.”

Quintus raises an eyebrow. “I think tipping over a car might put people against you.”

Barbillus shakes his head. “Not that.”

Next to him, Quintus slumps down. “So. What was it?”

“Murder. Arson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it just me or   
> I'm sorry, I started that sentence and I have no idea how I intended to finish.


	5. Am I More Than You Bargained for Yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Halloween :D

Pacing the room, Quintus holds his hands to his face. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

Barbillus downs a glass of water. “I'm still here.”

His voice the lovechild of sarcasm and terror, Quintus laughs. “That's not helpful. You. Fucking. Killed someone!”

Eyebrows raised, Barbillus looks shocked. “No, no. I didn't kill anyone. I was  _ accused _ of murder but - you think I'd do that?”

“Well…”

“Where I come from -”

Shuffling uncomfortably, Quintus asks, “Where is that exactly?”

Barbillus's face returns to a sombre expression, ignoring the question. “Where I come from, no one knew about my… power. Except one person. Salvius. He was the son of this wealthy family who lived nearby. We were friends - very close friends. But one day, there was a fire. Their whole house, just -” Barbillus gestures with his hands. “Gone. Consumed by the flames. He survived, no one else. The bodies were never found, and they didn't know what started the fire.”

Quintus reaches out to hold Barbillus's arm. 

Barbillus continues. “So, Salvius told everyone. He said that I did it all. I don't know if he believed it or just wanted someone to blame, but it convinced everyone. I had to leave; there was no way I was staying in a place where I was considered a monster.”

“Jesus.”

Barbillus nods. He brushes aside the tears on his face. “It was all going alright until yesterday. It happens whenever I feel strong emotions - fear, anger, regret. So, most of the time.”

With a sudden realisation, Quintus asks, “Um, how long do you plan on staying with me?”

“Until people forget about me.”

Quintus stands immediately. “Is that what you do then? Hide away until your face means nothing to everyone? That's pathetic, that's -”

Barbillus stands too, his voice raised, a sensation new to him. “If you'd prefer me to go out and get myself killed, just tell me. Oh, better not, I might ruin your fucking shirt!” 

“You know that's not what I meant. Just, please. There's no one after you.”

Barbillus sighs, a look of pain across his face. “Maybe not. But there were people - Salvius included - who showed an interest in my powers. They wanted me as a weapon.”

Eyes wide, Quintus steps back. “No, that's inhumane, they couldn't -”

“Couldn't they? Quintus, our government knows everything about us. They can see us at any given point in time. The one thing they don't have?” He points proudly to himself. “With me, they could control anything. Absolute devotion from everyone in this shit of a country.”

Quintus presses his body against the window, breath fogging over the street below. Each person beneath him is unaware of the words being formed above them. Pencil marks on paper. 

“See what I mean?” Barbillus walks towards Quintus, placing his palm on the glass beside Quintus’s.

Their eyes meet for a moment. An innocent blue and an honest brown.

“Barbillus?”

“Mm?” He cocks his head.

“I will try as hard as I can to protect you. I just want you to know that.”

Barbillus slides his hand onto Quintus's.

“Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this need a smut scene soon? I want to be the one who writes the first Quintillus smut scene.


	6. I Found Myself Attached to This Railroad Track

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I haven't updated for a while. Oops. But, in the wise words of Ross Geller, "We were on a break!"

Quintus wakes to the sound of a suitcase zipper sealing shut. Immediately, he sits up. “Barbillus?”

The sound stops. Creak. The sofa shifts under Barbillus's weight as he lowers himself back onto it. 

“Barbillus?” repeats Quintus.

No reply.

“I heard you. You're not already leaving?”

A pause. “I want to see my home again. So, thank you for -”

Quintus is already up, his shirt riding up on the left as he leans against the doorframe. “You'll need a ride.” He picks up the keys and tosses them up and down. 

Barbillus flicks his wrist, the keys flying towards him. “Thanks.”

Quintus walks over and snatches them back. “No. I mean, I'm coming too.”

A pained, dissatisfied look forms on Barbillus's face. “Fine.”

They leave the flat together, passing quickly through the empty corridors. Quintus stops at the elevator, leaning on the wall. Barbillus smirks. He raises his hand, and the lift door opens. “Oh, sorry. Were you waiting?” 

When the door opens again and a full voice repeats the floor number, they exit, following a dark stairway into the underground car park. Quintus unlocks the car, nervous that his companion might tear the doors off. 

“Um, first question: where are we going?”

“It’s a town called Alexandria -”

“Alexandria? Sounds Roman.”

“Probably. Anyway, it's near Winchester.”

As the car's engine begins to hum, they pull out of the car park and into a narrow alley, which leads to the main road. Innumerable buildings pass, flanking the streets until they slowly diminish. Shops, to houses, to hedgerows, as the city is left behind. Quintus pulls down his sun visor to hide the wrathful sunlight.

“You don't have to drive so… intensely,” remarks Barbillus, noting how tightly Quintus holds the steering wheel.

“Hmm? Oh,” Quintus relaxes his grip and sits back slightly.

Barbillus smiles as he begins to inspect the glovebox. “Your friend has some interesting music tastes. Let's see: Spice Girls… ABBA...” Gingerly placing them back, he pulls out a pair of oversized sunglasses. “Wow, and they suit me!” 

“Yes,” murmurs Quintus. “I like how they cover up most of your face.”

Barbillus scowls. Conversation over, he turns on the radio to ease the tension. From the speakers erupts a burst of guitar and drums, as a sad, reflective voice echoes, accompanied by a huskier harmony.

_ “Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no I've got to go…” _

Countless road signs pass, offering cities and towns neither has heard of. The relative flatness of the early countryside is torn into crashing hills and patchwork fields. 

Barbillus indicates a country lane, which Quintus follows. After an hour they spots traces of a town: a desolate petrol station, then a cluster of dilapidated cottages. Soon the town is upon them, as they find themselves on a main road walled by shops and bars. 

“Pull in here,” says Barbillus, pointing to an empty parking space. Quintus does so, and both step out of the car.

Barbillus smiles, pushing his door shut. “Welcome to Alexandria.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, details I should mention...  
> \- I took a slight creative liberty in moving an Egyptian city to southern England.  
> \- Yes, Quintus probably should've returned Melissa's car.  
> \- Barbillus's views of Melissa's music collection do not represent that of the author, ABBA is THE shit (which , strangely, means the opposite of shit)  
> \- The song on the radio is My Silver Lining by First Aid Kit, the [music video](https://youtu.be/DKL4X0PZz7M) is very aesthetic and kind of links with this fic?


	7. Castle on the Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Ed Sheeran songs? My pores are cleansed, my crops are flourishing.

Stirring a teaspoon distastefully around his coffee, Quintus remarks, “This is where you grew up?”

Barbillus looks up from his own drink. “Yep.”

“Hmm. I like the -” Quintus gestures vaguely with his hands. “It’s nice.”

Barbillus returns an incredulous look. “It's a shithole. Let's go.”

Quintus leaves his coffee half drunk, silently thanking Barbillus for the opportunity to leave it behind. “Where are we going?”

“You'll see,” grins Barbillus.

Gravel scratching beneath their feet, both men start up a narrow path. At the end lie the remnants of charred stone walls, a soulless shell with no roof. Blackened, skeletal trees rise up around the ruins. 

Barbillus stops as the path reaches an empty doorway. “Here we are.”

Quintus looks around, noting the scorched beams and jet black stones. “Is this even… safe?”

Laughing, Barbillus waves his hand behind him, causing a torrefied piece of wood to ascend and fall, shattering into a cloud of dirty ash. “Of course not. Just don't breathe too much.”

“Thanks for the advice,” murmurs Quintus. “So, we've seen it. Can we go now?”

Barbillus carefully crosses the threshold. “I want to know what caused the fire.” He flicks aside what was once a balustrade and moves towards the kitchen. Barely recognisable is a fridge, melted and disfigured by heat, and a sheet of granite, suspended over where cabinets once stood. Quintus enters the room nervously, as Barbillus strides out. “Nothing there.”

He holds his hand out ahead, breaking down the doors to the dining room. Quintus follows him in, tracing his fingers across the bubbled brown glass of a display cabinet. Barbillus examines the wall lights, discoloured lampshades sagging over the tarnished brass. “There's nothing wrong with anything here,” mutters Barbillus.

“I don't know, everything seems a bit burnt,” replies Quintus. “That seems kind of wrong?”

“Very funny.” Barbillus throws a heat-warped plate at Quintus. It hits the wall and snaps.

They leave the room. Opposite, the living room door stands expectantly. Barbillus points at it and it opens willingly. Breathing outwards heavily, he looks wistfully at the fragments of a rug next to an empty fireplace. “This,” he begins, “is where I used to sit and play with Salvius. We…” he trails off, bending down to retrieve a small lump of metal. Flecks of green and yellow paint are dotted across it. “This is - was - one of my toy cars.”

Quintus takes it and inspects it. “He took your toy car? Now I understand the deepset hatred. Okay.” His voice is laced with sarcasm.

“Yes. That's the  _ only _ reason I despise him.”

 

Crash.

 

Quintus and Barbillus turn to the door together. “It came from upstairs,” whispers Quintus.

Barbillus’s eyes widen. “No one else could be here. Something probably fell through. Roof tiles, I don't know.”

However, Quintus is already halfway up the stairs. Reluctantly, Barbillus creeps up with him. 

A low breathing sound comes from behind a paint-peeled door. Quintus reaches out, before Barbillus grabs his hand and walks in first. In a high-backed armchair, fabric torn, patiently sits a man.

He turns as the floorboards creak, swinging out of his seat.

“Ah, Barbillus. A pleasure to see you again.”


	8. Unapologetic Apathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even are consistent updates I don't know her  
> Also this is short but I guess it's an interlude? I need to stop with bad cliffhangers

“Salvius,” spits Barbillus. “What… what are you doing here?”  
Salvius paces the blackened floorboards. “This is my family home. You know that.”  
Barbillus steps back. “Come on, Quintus. It's time to leave.”  
Salvius looks over. “Ah, your… companion? I didn't think you were one to travel with company.”  
Through gritted teeth, Barbillus remarks, “Maybe there's certain company I'd like to avoid.”  
Quintus watches the stalemate from aside. A bull and a matador, encircling. Salvius turns to him.  
“You should know, this man -” he uses the word like poison “- destroyed everything you see. He's a murderer.”  
Barbillus launches forward and grabs Salvius, clawing at his face. “You know full well I did nothing!” he shrieks.  
Salvius loosens himself from the grip, laughing. Narrowing his eyes, he replies. “I know just who is to blame.” He laughs again under his breath, raising a finger and pressing it to his own chest.   
Barbillus is shocked, his mouth contorted into a state of disgust. “I suspected, but -”   
Quintus bursts in. “You killed your own parents? That's evil. That's…” He feels a pricking sensation in his neck, and slumps to the ground as his consciousness fades.  
Barbillus crouched down to inspect the mark on Quintus’s neck. A tall, balding man reclines against the wall, brandishing a thin syringe.  
“Come with us, or your friend is going to be in a lot of trouble,” snarls Salvius.


End file.
